After
by purelyslytherin
Summary: The Second Wizarding War had lasted over a decade, leaving the Wizarding world in a wave of destruction. After Voldemort's defeat, the Wizarding world struggles to rebuild, sending its top officials and aurors to varying Death Eater estates. Ron and Hermione end up staying at Malfoy manor, but they aren't alone. Inspired by the film "The Aftermath". Dramione. WIP
1. Chapter 1

The war had lasted longer than anyone had anticipated. Sure, the First Wizarding War had endured for eleven long years, but no one had thought Voldemort could continue just as long the second go-round. While the records didn't show the Second Wizarding War as starting until 1998, those in the Order of the Phoenix knew that the correct year should have been 1996, when the Battle of the Department of Mysteries happened.

Regardless of whatever date the Second Wizarding War truly started, one thing could be agreed upon: the date it all ended. On July 31, 2010, Harry Potter's 30th birthday, Voldemort finally fell, his own _Avada Kedavra _backfiring as he aimed it at Harry in battle. As Voldemort's last breath left his cold, reptilian body, the Wizarding world breathed a collective sigh of relief. It was finally over.

A decade of fighting had left the Wizarding world in ruins, with both sides of the war suffering tremendous losses. In the weeks following the fall of Voldemort, the Wizarding world in the UK was in chaos. The numbers of dead were not yet certain; hundreds were still listed as missing, neither confirmed as dead nor alive. Estimates were in the thousands, if you included the muggle casualties in the statistics. Magical and muggle towns alike had been severely damaged or even completely destroyed, leaving the Ministry of Magic millions of galleons in debt. Hundreds of witches and wizards were left homeless and starving, and trying to create refugee camps left the government in even more debt and chaos.

While simultaneously trying to rebuild its communities and support the citizens on the winning side, the Ministry also had the difficult task of dealing with the remaining Death Eaters. With their Dark Lord dead, the remaining followers had scattered. Some had turned themselves in, hoping for more lenient sentences. Others had fled the UK and even the continent, fleeing to far corners of the globe to avoid imprisonment or the Kiss. Bellatrix LeStrange, the Ministry's second most wanted after Voldemort himself, had committed suicide after witnessing her Lord's fall. Fenrir Greyback had fled to Bulgaria, where he had been caught by a pack of werewolves who were not Death Eater sympathizers and extradited back to the custody of British aurors. Corban Yaxley remained at large. Lucius Malfoy surrendered to the Ministry of Magic in exchange for a sentencing plea.

As many of the families who had either directly joined the Death Eater ranks or indirectly helped support their cause came from the oldest and wealthiest lines in the Wizarding world, the Ministry decided to utilize these families' assets in the rebuilding efforts. All Death Eaters and affiliates were instructed to pay large fines to the Ministry, whether or not they were also facing time in Azkaban. Property assets of all confirmed Death Eaters was also relinquished to Ministry control. The sprawling Nott and Greengrass estates were being used as two of the refugee camps, and many of the other estates were being given out to Ministry officials and top aurors as bases during the rebuilding efforts. This helped keep these properties in Ministry possession and keep the officials and aurors spread out to help control the small riots and uprisings that would occur as small pockets of Death Eater sympathizers would try to fight off their punishments and property seizures.

Harry and Ginny Potter opted to remain control of Grimmauld Place, as Harry wanted to maintain it in memory of Sirius. This also helped keep Harry, one of the lead aurors, close to monitor Death Eater sympathizer disturbances that kept hitting sections of London, the primary location for such riots. Kingsley Shacklebolt took over the LeStrange estate and used it primarily as an auror base secondary to the one located in the actual Ministry. Ronald and Hermione Weasley were given the Malfoy Manor as a place of residence, so that Ron, also one of the lead aurors, could have quick and easy access the small mutinies that tended to spring up around Wiltshire, another area that commonly had Death Eater disturbances. It is here, in the midst of the Wizarding Rebuilding, that the story begins.


	2. Chapter 2

_August 1, 2011_

Hermione stared up at the large doors in disdain, her brows scrunched and a small frown tugging the corners of her mouth. Of all the former Death Eater properties being doled out, she had the awful luck of being "gifted" this one. The only property she had ever been held prisoner at. The manor she had been severely tortured in. The house she was now supposed to call home.

The towers on either side of the manor rose high above the ground, casting large, eerie shadows. Nearly all of the windows looked dim and uninviting, and Hermione briefly wondered if the house received any natural light at all. It almost looked abandoned. The one flicker of movement Hermione did catch before returning her gaze to the doors came from one of the third floor windows. _Odd_, she thought to herself. From what she knew of the manor's layout, there was really no need for Ron to be on the third floor at all. With it just going to be her and Ron staying there, she knew that at the most, they would likely be staying primarily on the ground and second floors. The house would be massive for just the two of them.

Ron had been staying at the manor since just after the War ended, as Kingsley had soon found out that Wiltshire was a region that needed almost as much Ministry oversight as London. Ron, unlike Hermione, had remained a staunch and important leader in the Order of the Phoenix throughout the entire Second Wizarding War, both fighting at Harry's side and planning his own tactical missions. Hermione had been utilized by the Order in other capacities, helping develop new spells and potions for the Order to use in battle and in healing, giving her a more "behind the scenes" role and keeping her in London, while Ron actively went out to the fights all across the UK. As such, Ron had been staying at the manor as a commander, using at it as a base camp for his task force. It was only now, almost exactly a year later, that Ron started to primarily use it as a residence, with the base for his task force moving out of the countryside and into the capital of Wiltshire in Trowbridge.

The year apart as Ron worked tirelessly on trying to quell the disturbances around the county had been difficult. Hermione was happy they were finally being reunited, but hadn't wanted it to be under these circumstances, or at least, in this place.

She was still staring hard at the doors, her Gryffindor courage somehow lacking in that moment, when one slowly swung open. Ron's face appeared from the doorway, a soft smile on his lips. "Hermione!"

She met his eyes and tried her best to match his smile. The best she could do was one slightly upturned corner. "Ron! It's good to finally see you again." As Ron stepped outside to greet her, Hermione took in the sight of her husband. They had not seen each other in over eight months.

As part of the effort to catch all remaining Death Eaters, all modes of magical transportation, including apparating, portkey, and floo was restricted in the UK and limited to Ministry officials and aurors in mission-related circumstances only. The only exception to the ban had been on Christmas, when officials and aurors who were out on missions were granted floo access to come home and see their loved ones. He'd come back to the Burrow, joining the Weasley clan, or at least what remained of it, for Christmas dinner. Hermione hadn't been able to steal any moments alone with him, as everyone appeared to want to spend time with him just as much as she did, and vice versa. That was the last time she'd seen him.

Despite it being just eight months, there seemed to already be some significant changes to Ron's appearance. He'd aged, looking older than his thirty-one years. The pressure of trying to maintain Ministry control in the region post-war had built another layer of stress on top of the already deep layer from the war itself. His hairline was receding, and he had permanent lines from scowling. Behind the smile he was offering, the look of permanent exhaustion and strain was painted upon his face. These months had not been kind to him. She wondered if she had similarly aged in their time apart.

"I'm so glad you are finally able to join me here. The manor is positively _massive_, like you wouldn't believe. I know you've been here before, but you haven't been able to see the full size of this place. And you weren't able to see the library! It might be as big as the one at Hogwarts!"

Hermione outwardly ignored how casually Ron had brought up her last visit to the manor, as if it had been just for a nice little visit for tea and not a traumatic imprisonment. Inside, she felt both seething and stung. "That sounds lovely, Ron, although I still wish you had requested to live at another property instead." She wrapped her robes more tightly about her. She knew that the Wiltshire countryside was still in its summer temperatures, but she could feel a chill here all the same.

Ron shrugged at her, still oblivious to his earlier blunder and Hermione's discomfort. "It was the biggest place in Wiltshire. Besides, none of the reclaimed houses had libraries even half this large. I figured you'd like that part."

"Of course," Hermione stated, her voice steady despite her insides twisting. _As if the size of the library was enough to off-set the trauma she had faced here_, she thought as she fought off another frown. She knew that Ron's desire for wealth and influence had driven his consideration for Hermione's distress or desires straight out of his head.

"Dippy will get your trunks sent up to our room." At the raise of Hermione's brow, Ron continued. "Don't worry. I know how you feel about house elves, so I've been paying the ones that work here." His grin grew wider. "See, it won't be so bad living here!" He gestured at her to go inside with him.

Hermione found herself subconsciously massaging her scar on her forearm with her other hand as she crossed the threshold. _Mudblood_. She could almost swear she could feel it starting to tingle as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting inside.

The entryway had a massive double staircase leading to the next floor. Centered on the high ceiling was a lavish chandelier filled with candles; the candles hovered too high above the ground to be able to provide much light. The marble floors were beautiful, but cold, both in physical temperature and in appearance. The home had a sterile feel to it. An archway led out of the foyer and into what Hermione recognized as the drawing room. Her breath hitched.

It was enough for Ron to finally notice. "I had it repainted when I found out you would be joining me here. The furniture in it has all been replaced. It's almost a completely different room."

"That's nice, Ron," Hermione replied robotically. The ache in her arm increased.

"And I've completely blocked off access to the basement. Only the house elves can go to the kitchens down there, but even they can't go to that cellar anymore." His tone was bright, opposite to what Hermione was feeling inside. "It's too bad, since it would have made a nice firewhiskey cellar…"

"Where's our room?" Hermione interrupted. The ache in her arm had been suddenly replaced by a stabbing in her gut. Her eyes darted about, finally resting on the stairs, deducing that the master suite was likely on the next floor. She desperately wanted to be away from the drawing room. Well, she desperately wanted to be away from the entire house, but that was not possible at the moment.

"Upstairs, end of the West hall. You'll love it. The master bath has the biggest tub I've ever seen, and the water stays warm for forever. And the library is just next door, which will be convenient for you."

As she started to ascend the stairs, Ron continued: "The East hall contains the guest rooms as well as my office, so I'll be spending a lot of time over there. When the door is open, you're welcome to come in and visit. But when the door is closed," he shook his head, "that means I'm working on a confidential mission."

She nodded in reply, understanding. He would be home often, but still shut away from her. She may be with him here, but not much would be changing. "And what is on the third floor?" She asked, pausing midway up the staircase.

He remained on the marbled floor of the foyer. He lowered his gaze so he was no longer looking up at her, but down at his worn out shoes. "Ah, well, about that…we won't be going up there. It's not a part of our quarters."

"But I am fairly certain I saw movement in one of the windows before you answered the door," Hermione responded.

"Oh, well…" Ron's face began to change colors. First it flushed to a faint shade of pink, before tinging to a green-grey. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Someone else lives on that floor."

"Didn't Kingsley send the rest of your task force to live in the towns?" Hermione asked, confused. Both her conversations with Kingsley and Ron's owls to her had seemed to imply that it would just be the two of them residing in the manor, as the rest of the task force had to spread out to help maintain control.

"Er, well yes. It's not anyone from the task force."

Hermione felt her anxiety rising. "Who, then?" When Ron started to rock awkwardly on his feet and continued to avert his eyes from her stare, she repeated herself, louder. "Who, Ron?"

Her question was answered when out of the corner of her eye, she sensed movement at the top of the staircase she stood on. As she looked up, she was greeted with a familiar drawl.

"Granger." It was said in a flat tone of voice, but appeared to be a greeting. Stone cold grey eyes met hers, and he nodded, a very slight movement, once to her.

Pushing past the panic now building up inside her, Hermione looked back down at Ron and said as evenly as she could manage, "Explain."

"Malfoy's on house arrest. He can't leave." Ron said it sheepishly. "He occupies the third floor."

Hermione glared daggers down at her husband, before shifting her fiery look upwards at Malfoy, who still stood frozen at the top of the stairs. She could swear there was a hint of a smirk on his face. She wanted to hit him. Or Ron. Or both.

Not wanting to lose control in front of either one of them, Hermione strode up the stairs, careful not to brush past Malfoy. She didn't meet his eyes again. She begged her legs not to give out from under her or to run, but rather keep her walking straight and tall until she could reach the privacy of her new quarters. She easily found the door at the end of the West hall and entered, slamming the door shut behind her, the breath she had been holding finally releasing from her fire-filled lungs.

She sucked in a couple large breaths, trying to calm herself, before allowing herself to observe her new bedroom. The mastersuite was a large, ornate room with an expansive canopied bed in the center. The curtains, as well as the bedspread, were a silky, emerald, Slytherin green. Hermione collapsed against the door and sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

_August 21, 2011_

The last several weeks had been tense, to say the least. Despite Ron's claims that Malfoy rarely left his third floor quarters, Hermione rarely left the West wing, choosing instead to flit between her shared bedroom and the immense library next door. Hermione knew Ron assumed her self-exile to the West wing was due to Malfoy's presence in the home. While that was definitely a part of it, it was more an avoidance of the rest of the house.

"In the library, Hermione could forget where she was. The Malfoy library held every kind of wizarding book imaginable – history, potions, textbooks, runes, poetry, and even fiction. Hermione found that she liked the wizarding fiction the best, as it provided the greatest escape from her current circumstances. She spent the better part of each day, and even some nights, lost in a good book on the black chaise next to the fireplace.

As she suspected, Ron was often absent, even when home. He spent most of his days, and some of his nights, locked away in his East wing office, the door magically warded shut. He was often called away to help deal with skirmishes or the ever-growing refugee camps, apparating away with no warning. Hermione usually learned of his absences from Dippy or one of the other house elves.

On the rare occasion they did get some time together, it never felt right. Ron remained painfully oblivious to Hermione's feelings about the situation, and didn't know how to talk about anything besides his work. Hermione, who had stopped working for the Order completely not long after her imprisonment, had little to contribute to his attempts at conversation. All she could think to talk about with him were the books she was reading, which he cared little about.

However, during one of their few dinner conversations, Hermione did learn from Ron more about the circumstances of Malfoy being in the house.

"How is it that he's on house arrest when he's a Death Eater?" she'd asked before taking a bite of her shepherd's pie. "I thought they all had to go to Azkaban."

Ron, who hadn't outgrown his habit of speaking while eating, replied with his mouth still full of potatoes. "He was. He defected about halfway through the war though, didn't you know? Anyway, Shacklebolt said that Malfoy still had to pay for his crimes committed prior to the switch, but because he was able to provide some good intel and was a great help, he would not get Azkaban. He's on house arrest for two years."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't know…" she let the statement fade off. She was surprised she hadn't been aware of something as big as Draco Malfoy switching sides, but she assumed she never knew about it because it must have happened during her_ lost year_, as she called it.

"Part of his conditions during house arrest is he isn't allowed to do magic or possess a wand. So if you ever see him around the grounds doing things the muggle way, that's why." Ron continued.

"So are you living here as a way to babysit the prisoner?" Hermione asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Ron scoffed. "There's enough wards from the ministry on this house to prevent him from breaking any of his conditions of his house arrest. Malfoy doesn't need a babysitter."

"Then why are we in this house while he's still in it?" She almost growled the question.

"I already told you, it was the best house available. Besides, aren't you enjoying the library? I don't know why you are making a big deal out of him being here. We never see him. Blimey, you act like he's one of the ones who tortured you."

With that, Hermione shot out of her chair and slammed her silverware down on the table with a bang. She fled the dining room, but chose to go outside rather than the predictability of returning to the West wing. She entered the manor's rose garden and found a bench to sit on. She sat there, silent tears sliding down her cheeks, when all of a sudden the sound of rapid footsteps and leaves rustling disturbed her.

A shock of bright blond hair burst from between two of the bushes near her seat. As the tiny head rose, revealing a young face, Hermione gasped. It almost looked exactly like Mal-

"Scorpius, come here." She heard Draco's familiar drawl from her left. She turned and watched as the young boy dashed over to his side. "I've warned you about coming out here."

Scorpius, who looked to be about ten, pouted. Draco put his arm on the boy's shoulder before telling Hermione, "Sorry. I've told him not to come out here when you are out here. We will not be bothering you again."

Hermione watched the two of them walk away from her, intrigued. Ron hadn't mentioned anyone but Malfoy living in the house, nor had he mentioned Malfoy having any children. As she observed the way Scorpius clung to his father, she started to feel her insides twist. She swallowed hard, then looked away.

She stayed in the garden until it was dark.


	4. Chapter 4

_September 1, 2011_

The few nights Hermione and Ron did get to spend together were just as lonely as the nights spent apart. Ron never closed the space between them in the expansive bed to do anything more than leave a goodnight peck on her forehead. He was tired, he'd say, before rolling away again, leaving cold sheets between them. Hermione missed his touch, but not enough to seek it.

Tonight was not any different. Ron was already in bed when Hermione entered the room. As she crawled beneath the sheets, Ron muttered "goodnight" before rolling over to face away from her.

Hermione laid on her back, staring up at the canopy until her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to make out the lines in the cloth. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep right away; she was having too many thoughts to be able to turn her mind off. This was normal for her. Hermione often had difficulty sleeping, her mind wandering to memories she'd rather forget. She didn't like to take potions, so she stayed up late most nights, lost in thought.

Tonight, her mind blessedly did not turn to memories of war, but rather to the state of her marriage.

They'd been happy, before. Hermione had been head over heels for Ron when they were teenagers, although it had taken seeing him snogging with Lavender Brown for her to realize it. By the time Ron had realized that he had feelings for Hermione too, the war had started.

Their early months were spent on the run with Harry. It was hard to foster a functional relationship while simultaneously trying to hide from and save the world with their best friend. Once they reunited with the Order, things got easier, at least for a little while.

But in 2001, Ron started going on missions full time with Harry, while Hermione started to primarily focus on potions, spells, and charms for the Order to use in the war efforts. She stayed at base in Grimmauld Place, doubling as both a developer and healer for the Order while Ron was on the front lines. He spent a lot of time hiding out at safe houses, rarely coming back to base. The distance was hard on their relationship.

Any night they were lucky enough to be together at Grimmauld Place was spent together. He would come clumsily crashing into her room, the grime and blood of battle still clinging to his robes. She would hurriedly check him for injuries, before crashing her lips into his. In the morning, she would wake up alone, his imprint still on the sheets. Another mission. There was always another mission.

One morning in October 2003, she awoke to find Ron still there, breathing lightly. She watched him sleep for several minutes before whispering, "Make an honest witch out of me, Ronald."

His eyes fluttered open. "We're in the middle of a war, Hermione."

"That's exactly why we should do it."

He rolled over, and didn't reply. She curled up against him and fell back asleep. When she woke up again, he was gone, as she expected.

A week later, there was a large battle. Charlie lost a hand. Hannah had been eviscerated, but somehow survived. Cho was in a coma, and Hermione feared there might be irreversible brain damage. Tonks and Remus, two of their best strategists, were killed. Grimmauld Place was in chaos.

Hermione spent nearly all evening trying to save Hannah and Cho. She forced herself to think about them; no one had given her a status update on Harry or Ron. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that she was finally able to escape to her own room and find out.

Ron was sitting on her bed, pale and with an ugly gash across his cheek, but alive. She launched herself into his arms, sobbing. After several minutes, she finally calmed down enough to ask, "Harry?"

"He's okay, just a few scratches like me. He's at the Burrow with Ginny. We're fine. But Remus and Tonks…"

"I know."

"You were right," Ron said after several minutes of melancholic silence. "About being in the middle of a war being the reason. Remus and Tonks…at least they had each other." He looked Hermione in the eyes, one of hands disappearing into his pants pocket. "I won't let this war take you from me."

He slipped a simple gold band onto her finger. "Marry me, Hermione."

She cried as the words, "Yes, Merlin, yes!" escaped her lips.


End file.
